Twisted Fate
by Enchantressofthestars
Summary: American 24 year old, Audrey, is spun back in time for a romantic rendevous with the world's most famous detective, Sherlock Holmes himself.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note:  
  
Okay, I'm sitting here on the edge of my bed, ready to start a whole new and hopefully GREAT Sherlock Holmes story. I almost have all of the X's crossed off on my writer's checklist. Calming music? Check, Enya will do. Comfy place? Yup, my room. Good view out the window? A orange yellow sun sinking into an ocean of pink clouds. So I think I'm about to begin. Everyone please pardon my historical and Sherlockian errors. If you notice any please let me know.  
  
I've become addicted to the great mastermind, or the world of him by my friend Hilary. Her pen name is Danric-Lover and ya'll should go read her stuff! It's great! We're both in love with Danric from Crown Duel by the way, amongst MANY other hotter older movie stars and characters! Examples: Ethan Rhodes from 'A Perfect World' by Wakizashi, Severus Snape, the HOT detective himself (HOLMES), the guy who plays Robert the Bruce in BRAVEHEART( Best movie in the world), and Aragorn...sigh, well it goes on for ages!  
  
As you can probably tell I LOVE the CAPS LOCK button on the keyboard too! Well PURTY PLEASE review and I'm sure you know how much writers get discouraged so PLEASE SAY nice things, at least a tiny bit of liking for the story. And TA-DA here we go!! Buckle up your seat belts for the long ride and *hopefully* enjoyable time!  
  
Disclaimer: I sadly *sniff* do not own any part of the Great Detective that belongs to...*applause* Sir ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE!!  
  
P.S. Did I mention ROMANTIC ride? Wink, wink (. Sigh.....FLUFF!  
  
*Chapter One*  
  
I quite simply failed to believe it. Here I was, miles away from my home, standing on the sidewalk outside the world famous detective's home, 221B Baker Street.  
  
Unzipping my lime green fanny-pack I took out my goldenrod Kodak disposable camera and started snapping away. The steps to the black towering front door were just a few feet in front of me when I heard a familiar feminine voice call out my name.  
  
"Audrey!" Yes, that's me. Twenty-four year old single American gal who just newly graduated from Northern Illinois University.  
  
"Wait up!" Jacqueline called from the entry way of the Beatle's shop next door. "Will and Orly are still shopping'!" Jacqueline, or Jax for short was my roommate in college and definitely the equivalent of a sister to me. After our graduation her HOT Heath Ledger look-a-like boyfriend had finally proposed at Bennigan's and as sort of a celebration they had taken a vacation to England. Where Orly (the Heath Ledger clone) was from. Jax quickly invited me, thinking that she would desperately need some female company after the two weeks.  
  
I soon met Will, Orly's younger brother who instantaneously developed a major attraction to me and had been stalking me ever since I got in the cab from Heathrow Airport. So together the four of us were touring London while Orly and Jax had intimate moments with each other and I was left with drooling, goo-goo eyed Will. Today we had firstly gone to Madame Tussauds (the huge wax museum) and then window-shopped till we came to the Beatles, and Elvis store and currently, the Sherlock Holmes Museum.  
  
Orly had greatly protested in going to the museum, sarcastically mentioning to Jax that he didn't want to spend his time learning about some fictional dead men and would rather spend his time looking for souvenirs instead.  
  
Jax and I had always had KILLER crushes on Holmes and Watson. Jax vowed that she'd kill Mary Morstan and my only weak concern was Irene Adler.  
  
"Come on, let's just go!" I urged Jax, giving her my 'I've had it up to here' look.  
  
"Fine," she shouted, giving in and throwing her hands up in an act of surrender. "We're leaving guys!" she yelled, dashing back into the store to find her fiancé totally tuned out listening to Eleanor Rigby.  
  
Jax and I entered the museum together, eyes scanning all over the front room gift shop. "Can you believe it Audrey," Jax whispered, grabbing onto my hands and jumping up and down in her insane hyper frenzy, making nearby tourists stare at us and quickly dart away. "We're actually HERE!" she gushed, smiling a smile wide enough to reach the Texas. Ever since Orly had proposed, Jax was living in this mystical faerie world where all her dreams were coming true and I personally think she hadn't come back down to Earth yet.  
  
"Hello ladies, good day and welcome to The Sherlock Holmes Museum," said a handsome Sherlock Holmes imitator, complete with the deerstalker cap.  
  
"Oh my GOD! PICTURE MOMENT!" Jax screamed thrusting her camera at me and cozying up to the poor innocent Englishman. I raised my eyebrows and quickly captured the 'Kodak' moment, leaving Jax to give the man and wink and a farewell kiss on his rosy cheek.  
  
"Jeez Jax," I muttered sarcastically, "Take a CHILL pill."  
  
"Fine Miss Pouty, let's just buy tickets for the tour and shop," Jax replied, tossing her California blonde hair purchasing tickets and looking at the price tag of a Calabash pipe.  
  
"Attention Ladies and Gentlemen!" A woman mimicking Mrs. Hudson announced from the base of the stairs. "The tour is about to start! Please hand you tickets to the young lady here and get ready to journey back to 1881!"Jax dejectedly handed the tickets to the woman at the side and together we stood at the back of the crowd next to the flower wall papered partition.  
  
"Alright," Mrs. Hudson began, placing her hands together like she was about to give a long lecture. "Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson lived here at 221b Baker Street between 1881-1904, according to the overwhelming popular stories written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The house was last used as a lodging house in 1936 and the famous 1st floor study overlooking Baker Street is still faithfully maintained as it was kept in Victorian Times. Please follow me as we travel up these 17 steps and visit Sherlock Holmes's room. On the second floor is Doctor Watson's room and on the 3rd floor is an exhibit containing wax models of scenes from the stories."  
  
"Isn't this awesome!" Jax whispered loudly pinching my elbow.  
  
"Jax!" I hissed, throwing her a pissed off look and continuing up the stairs on the opposite side. Normally I would have been more patient, but Orly was not exactly a fun person to be touring with and neither was 18 year old Will, constantly breathing loudly behind my back all the time.  
  
"This is the Great Detective's room," Mrs. Hudson announced, standing aside the doorway to let the visitors in. "Note the cigar in the coal shuttle and tobacco in the toe-end of the Persian slipper on the floor besides the fireplace. Jax pushed aside all the other annoyed visitors and stood near the window by the table, surveying the fancy Victorian tea set. "You may take pictures in Mr. Holmes chair besides the fireplace," Mrs. Hudson said to the crowd examining Sherlock's room.  
  
"Come on Audrey!" Jax whispered, steering me by the elbow to scarlet velvet sitting chair. "Excuse me, can you take a picture for us?" she asked, shoving her camera into a stand by tourist's hands.  
  
"Sure," the African American man responded, oddly smiling at Jax's nerving impoliteness. Jax settled comfortably into Watson's chair and I sat in Holme's as she smiled a wide native Californian cheerleader smile, and I gave a weak grin.  
  
Flash! "There you go ma'am," the man said politely and resumed in studying the magnifying glass on the desk. Mrs. Hudson knocked on the orange mahogany door and announced kindly, "Now please join me on to Doctor Watson's room."  
  
Jax motioned quietly for us to stay behind and look around the room without being crowded by people. "Isn't this cool?" she whispered, hand tracing over the dusty light fixtures.  
  
"Yeah," I replied, half dazed as I looked over the detectives stained wood desk.  
  
"Hey, I'm going to go ahead and see sexy Watson's room," Jax said with a devilish smile.  
  
"Okay," I responded quietly, still gazing at the chemistry desk. "What an awesome thing it would be like if you were still alive," I whispered to no one in particular as my hand skimmed the obsidian looking black elephants standing on the desk next to the door. Then I soon became aware of someone else breathing in the room. I spun around to see a man sitting in Holmes's chair, hand in his hands, eyes closed and breathing deeply.  
  
He had raven black hair and rather pale white skin. I could see through the spaces in his fingers a hawk-like formed nose. His eyes snapped open and he stared avidly at the dark colored carpet in front of him. He seemed disturbed, and his eyes had a steely dazed glint to them, but they seemed like they could pierce through my body if he glanced up to see me.  
  
He was the exact model of Sherlock Holmes. 'Probably another creepy Sherlock Holmes imitator,' I thought. 'Sneaking around and the such. Doesn't exactly look right in the head.' The man snorted and rose up to stand before the fireplace. He placed his hands apart on opposite sides of the mantel and stared deep into the fire's dark orange depths like he was searching for something, hope or belief.  
  
"I'll just be going then," I said quietly, hoping he wouldn't notice me and I would silently sneak away.  
  
His head whipped towards me quickly as I vanished from sight. "Damn hallucinations," I heard him hiss. Silently I crept up the stairs till I reached the second floor landing. The door was jammed shut and as I tried jiggling the handle it creaked open slowly. Peering inside I found it disorderly. Bed unmade, papers all over the place. The closet seemed to in relative order. "And I thought Watson was neat," I whispered smiling.  
  
As quickly as I came upon it, I left Doctor Watson's room and traveled up to the 3rd floor desperately hoping for the slightest sound of people or the fake Mrs. Hudson's voice. The 3rd floor landing door was unlocked when I reached for it and looking inside it appeared to be empty. I opened the door wider and walked into the center of the large gallery room. The floor was covered thickly with grey dust and my worn Nikes left footprints, revealing a wooden floor beneath the grey veneer of dirty particles.  
  
I ran to the grimy window to see gas-lit lamps dimly brightening the cobbled stoned street. Undoubtedly where tall electric light posts should have been instead. Horse drawn carriages were waiting by the houses and men with top hats stood at the front of them, talking to their stomping Mares in the warm humid summer night. Over the horizon the sun was dimly fading and the room was already getting darker. 'That's not right,' I thought quickly to myself. 'The sun was way over our heads when we arrived at the Museum.' Something was dreadfully wrong and now I didn't have the faintest idea of where I was.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Author's Note:  
  
So HOW did you guys like it? Okay, it might seem to drag on for a bit in the beginning but the action will soon arrive!! PLEASE REVIEW! Reviews make my world go round and make me VERY VERY HAPPY!!!! They also give me inspiration and help me write faster and better! I know it's not that hard to press that tiny button in the lower left hand corner of the screen!! Well THANK YA!  
  
Kels* 


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:   
  
I think I failed to mention in the previous chapter that the Sherlock Holmes is a little younger in this fic. Hey, I'm the writer, I can change anything! Lol, *Winkz* I'm also bringing in some new mysteries etc. Well enjoy and COMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED. Critique also!   
  
MERCI to THE COOLEST BETA READER EVER...HILARY!! Thanks so MUCH!  
  
~***Chapter 2***~   
  
It almost seemed to me like this was some Victorian England drama and I was an unpaid customer or guest viewing the performance. I scanned the nearby buildings wildly but could not find any metal stands or plush velvet seats. Fumbling to the door I struggled to search for the welcoming feel of a light switch or some method of electricity to brighten up the large abandoned, and steadily dark, room I found myself in.   
  
"Damn it all," I hissed in frustration feeling cold air come in through cracks in the wall and unsuccessfully getting no light. "I can't stay here," I murmured in a slight word of forgiveness to the damp room as I began the trek back to the light and ground floor.   
  
Watson's room was still unoccupied and gloomy so I easily ran by unnoticed but creeping past the Great Detective's room was another fabled story. He could probably already tell I was there by the creaking of my feet on the old wooden steps. Maybe even by the scent of my Tommy Hilfiger perfume.   
  
As I quietly hit the bottom of the first floor I could already see light cascading out of the large doorway. Breathing softly I tiptoed past his room hardly making a sound.   
  
"Watson? Is that you?" a fazed voice from the open room asked.   
  
Panicking and generally freaked out I dashed turbulently across the landing only to be grabbed firmly by two iron grip arms. "And who are you?" he whispered dangerously, looking into my frightened eyes as I struggled violently to escape. For a second I stopped squirming and looked into his eyes, feeling like I was about to wilt. Clad in purple slippers and a matching velvet bathrobe he was the most handsome man I had ever set my eyes on.   
  
The firelight from the abandoned room glinted off his gray eyes. His glare gently softened like melting butter. I needed a get away or a distraction, something to shock him. I couldn't pull anything violent, or clever, he was too smart for that. But what about a sudden little ounce of romance? Love was the one thing that I could use to befuddle the Great Detective.   
  
So mischievously, and did I mention eagerly? I darted forward, and attempting to put my hand to his neck, I kissed him slowly. It felt strangely perfect, like the best feeling I had ever felt in my young life. For moments we just stood there. The detective and I passionately engaged in full lip lock. It was like we had known each other for our whole lives.   
  
Then regretfully leaning away I walked backwards watching him with his eyes closed, an emotion of, did I believe, contentment on his face? I had a strange twisted feeling that I was Cinderella running away from her Prince Charming.   
  
Part of me knew I had to run and find Jax but another part of me wanted to stay with this remarkable stranger. Practically sprinting and tripping down the stairs I leaped to the door. "Wait," he called above me, "Don't go."   
  
Struggling not to give in and stay I ran out the front door and bumped into several groups of elderly women and gentlemen. "Sorry," I shouted to them, becoming painfully aware of the difference of their proper Victorian gowns and my casual laidback clothes. I was in tiny khaki shorts and a black spaghetti tank top, complete with upper undergarments showing. Not exactly the right thing to wear in 1888 England. Running down the street I found that I couldn't contain my tears any longer.   
  
I'd already decided that I wasn't in the twenty-first century and was extremely lost. Clambering to the edge of the side walk I sat down and began to cry. I was a young woman stuck in a foreign time without anyone I knew and no place to stay. My mind kept telling me it was a dream but the feeling of the cobblestone street beneath me was all too real.   
  
Pictures of my family kept popping up in my head. Of my mother washing dishes in the sink, soap bubbles up to her elbows. My father working the tractor in the fields of my home state, Iowa. And snapshots of my two brothers playing hide and go seek in the hay of the barn. Although there was about a 16 year old difference in ages between me and them, I missed them incredibly and we had a sort of understandable bond. But what would they do? What would Jax do? Would they send police looking for me? Would I be on the news and in the newspapers?   
  
"Excuse me miss?" a friendly young man said, sitting down beside me on the curb. "May I ask what's wrong?" he asked looking into my shiny eyes. 'Strange psycho,' I thought at once. 'Probably some freak thinking I'm a prostitute.' But the kind look in his eyes and the smiling woman behind him showed that they were good-hearted people.   
  
"I'm lost," I sighed, a fresh wave of tears rolling down my face.   
  
"What do you mean darling?" the woman asked politely but in a curious manner.   
  
"I don't know," I sobbed, leaning over and crying into the man's fresh smelling black coat. He patted my back reassuringly and nodded for his wife to get down and talk to me.   
  
"Don't worry darling," she said soothingly. "You're going to be fine."   
  
"No, I'm not," I wailed, sitting up right and wiping my eyes.   
  
"Yes you will," the woman said rubbing my arm. "Come on, we have a friend this way." I nodded and followed them, tracing my steps back where I'd just run from.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
  
Author's Note:   
  
Okay, okay, I know, short chapter but I'm updating soon. Stay tuned and REVIEW! PLEASE?   
  
~kELS 


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:   
  
Howdy, 3rd chapter coming' up! Please review, critique welcome!~! Mucho gracias to the best beta reader in the WORLD...HILARY! And COOKIES to all my reviewers THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!!!   
  
Little 'Thank you' Notes   
  
Sakura Moon: Yup, you assumed correct. Something related to that will come up later in the story! Thanks for reviewing!   
  
Blackrose25: You'll have to tell me about that revolving holographic projection in the basement. Danric is SOOO unbelievably sexy...SIGH! Hehe, I don't actually have an ocean view from my window. The clouds just looked like it kinda lol, and I don't have a laptop...yet. I was writing on paper at the time, but my parents are so tired of me typing away on the computer all day so they're helping me save money to buy a Dell. YEE-HAW! I just have to sell enough stuff on Ebay though...tell me when you're new Holmes fic is on fanfiction, I'd really like to read it! Thanks for reviewing!! (Beta Add- in! - Hey Rose! Instead of making Kels tell ya I may has well tell ya myself: I CAN'T WAIT FOR YOUR NEW FIC! Did you know that because you got me addicted to Holmes, that I have trouble typing in Shevraeth anymore. Sherlock is the immediate reaction. :P I still want one of those revolving holograms. Has Top Hat been able to find me one yet? ;) Ta-ta Rose!)   
  
Topazdragon: SO DO I!! SIGH! THANKS FOR ALL UR REVIEWZ!   
  
Hil: Hey BIG G, that was it wasn't it? LOL, Mr. Smith talks A LOT!!~! Kinda odd tangents ain't they? Fighting and Florida stuff, lol. I swear, look on the synthesizer, it's made by a company called RHODES!! Omg I seriously almost SCREAMED when I saw that!! SIGH ETHAN RHODES! I have to read that fic again, and I HOPE she updates...SOON!! xoxo (LOL LMFAO JK JK JK JK JK) wOOt wOOt, SNORT SNORT, have a great almighty laugh week! Loki better come back down to the US from Denmark or he's gonna get a serious whoopin...from ME! You have to write some more Danric stuff...FLUFF!! YEE-HAW!   
  
Scarlett: Thanks for reviewing! I only went in the GIFTSHOP, (tears) when I was at the Sherlock Holmes museum! I was SOOO mad! All the rest of my family wanted to go to the wax museum and spent FOREVER in the Beatle's shop so no time left for Holmes, tear, tear. I did get to meet and take a picture with an incredibly HOT Sherlock Holmes imitator and then I followed him down to the lower level, hehe, but that's a whole different story!~ J   
  
Carolinus Took: *Screeches happily* THANKS for your review, hehe I'm glad you like it!!   
  
Greeneyes616: Hehe thanx! I might go off onto a romantic Sherlock Holmes chapter tangents or something like that, but I'm trying to make this fic as much close to the books as possible, while changing the **romantic** side of Sherlock. TEE-HEE! I hope you like it!!~!   
  
Snik: MWHAHAHAHAH THANK YOU ROSEBUD!   
  
Meitantei Kudo KID: LOL!! HEHE! Sigh...Holmes!   
  
Mysterylover17: Thank ya!! J I hope ya keep reading!   
  
QueenOfSpain: AWESOME PEN NAME! That's so kewl!! Hehe, I did take your advise and asked a close Sherlockian friend (Hilary) to be my Beta Reader, I'm not talented at punctuation etc. You'll see this plot is pretty different from all other Sherlockian, I hope! Lol.   
  
Georgie d: SORRY about the 'Doctor Holmes' thing, I kinda get off focused, must of slipped when I was editing it. Thanks for your review!!   
  
Nath: Hehe, THANKS for your review! What country are you from, or what language do you speak, I should say? There's way too many hot mysterious guys in books and movies! SIGH, Please keep reviewing, I look forward to hearing from you!   
  
  
  
~***Chapter 3***~   
  
Sniffing and weakly trying to wipe my tears away I let myself be led by the kind woman and man. "Do you think he's alright John?" the woman asked, guiding me past the familiar houses I had just ran from including the Beatles and Elvis shop, now turned into a seamstress and a tailor. They stopped at 221b and for a moment I clearly doubted my sanity.   
  
"No," I protested struggling to get out of their loose grip. "I can't go in there, I'm sorry."   
  
"Why not?" the man said, who I assumed to be Doctor Watson in the flesh.   
  
"Because, I've had...a...a... bad experience with Mr. Holmes," I stuttered, looking down at the dirty ground and avoiding looking into their questioning eyes.   
  
"Darling, Mr. Holmes is a practical man, don't worry," the woman said.   
  
"Yes, Mary is right, Holmes won't mind a bit at your presence," Watson replied.   
  
Then it dawned on me. 'Now I get it,' a voice in me yelled, 'Watson and Mary Morstan!' "Are you two married?" I asked politely, my demeanor changing completely.   
  
"No, we're engaged," Mary said to me, smiling and raising her eyebrows curiously, "How on heavens could you tell that?"   
  
"You just look familiar," I responded, smiling innocently. Watson opened the shadowing door while Mary led me through by the crook of her arm. "Really, I appreciate all you've done, but this isn't necessary," I said again, looking nervously at the open door above the staircase.   
  
"Come on, it'll all be fine," Mary said putting up a smile. My journey up the stairs was only a second and in minutes I was standing in front of the detectives door hiding behind Watson and Mary.   
  
"Holmes," Watson yelled loudly, pounding on the dark orange door, "It's us." Footsteps could be heard approaching the door which soon swung open to reveal a very tired and saddened Holmes.   
  
"Hello," Holmes greeted wearily, "Come in." Watson and Mary quickly entered into the room and I stood back besides the door so I could hopefully sneak away.   
  
"Come on dear," Mary said, popping up next to me and dragging me inside. I at once pivoted my eyes to the ground, avoiding Holmes's gaze.   
  
"Watson," Holmes breathed, striding at once to my side. "You found her," he whispered, tilting my chin upwards so my own eyes would meet his enchanting grey one's. At once I could see vivid emotion in his features. The way he was looking at me, I'd seen it before. It was the same look Will had given me after we first met the moment I got off the airplane. ~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
I wouldn't deny the fact that I was something to look at. Countless people had told me so. Old boyfriends murmuring it to me by the small farm lake in the soft moonlight. Or old ladies at church praising me on my church solo or how wonderful I looked. Beauty was a weapon, and a nuisance, not a god- given gift.   
  
At the age of 7, my mother enrolled me in small modeling contests and little photo takes. I had absolutely no tolerance for it. I was a messy tomboy and would rather be running outside in the mud then sitting still in some scratchy dress, my eyes nearly blind from the constant blinking lights of cameras. But later all they had gone away when I decided to take a different path, one to college and an academic career. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
Just by the look in Sherlock's eyes and I could tell I had captured the Great Detective's heart. We just gazed at each other, at first I thought he was going to kiss me and I put a finger to his lips. How could he seem so miraculously familiar? This was impossible, Sherlock Holmes had never loved anyone else, much less me. And we hadn't known each other, that was virtually beyond any way of happening.   
  
But still, I felt like I had been by his side every day of my life. "What is your name?" Holmes whispered, as everyone else in the room began to fade and all that existed was Holmes and I.   
  
"Audrey," I replied drowning in the large pools of his mystical eyes.   
  
"Holmes," I heard Watson say behind me. "You never told me of any romantic acquaintance you'd had. Who is this young lady"   
  
"And how in heaven's name do you know her?" Mary interrupted.   
  
"I don't," Holmes replied in a husky deep voice.   
  
"Just in our dreams," I responded grinning at Holmes.   
  
"But...but... who are you dear?" Watson stammered.   
  
"My name is Audrey," I stated clearly, "I am most definitely lost and have almost no idea what to do."   
  
"You are from American correct?" Mary asked.   
  
"Yes, but not the America of this age, from the America of 2004."   
  
"That's physically impossible," Mary retorted, laughing, "You must be mad."   
  
"I know, and I feel like I'm dreaming and about to wake up any second. But here I am and you certainly don't look my friends from NIU."   
  
"Prove that you're from the future," Watson said smugly, sitting back in his armchair, arms crossed over his chest.   
  
"Well, let me see," I answered taking off my worn lime green fanny pack around my waist and observing the items in it. "I have some English pounds and a few spare American dollars," I said handing the items to Watson. "And here is a bottle of sunscreen, sun glasses, a map of London, a tour guide book and my camera."   
  
"What on earth?" Mary replied stunned, looking incredulously at the flexible gold and purple bottle of Banana Boat lotion.   
  
"Look at this," Holmes said, finally saying a few words, "This tour guide has colored pictures of London in the future."   
  
"What?" Watson weakly asked, looking suddenly towards the open book in Holmes's hands.   
  
"There are pictures of incredible buildings, some five times the size of Buckingham Palace," Holmes remarked.   
  
"And look those huge red things, they look like they're moving," Watson then whispered, his finger tracing the outline of the bus on the page.   
  
"They're called double-decker buses," I said clearly, drawing attention to the words 'double' and 'decker'.   
  
"I see, and what is this?" Holmes asked me curiously, leaning over and showing me a picture of the London Eye.   
  
"Ah," I whispered smiling, "It's called the London Eye and it's a great HUGE Ferris Wheel." Mary, Watson and Holmes stared at me blankly. "Like a contraption that you can ride in that goes up and around then down and.." I demonstrated using my finger in a circular motion. Still blank stares. "Well it's the Millennium Wheel and a big thing and fun," I said quickly changing the subject.   
  
"And this is a camera?" Holmes asked me holding the small box up near the gas light.   
  
"Yup," I replied, "It takes little pictures." Then suddenly an idea dawned on me. "Mr. Holmes," I asked turning to him at my side, "Can I get these photographs developed?"   
  
"I think I can," Holmes replied in a stiff manner, at once resuming to his impossibly intelligent self.   
  
"Fabulous," Watson remarked, clapping his hands loudly.   
  
"So you mean to tell me that you took pictures with this device?" Mary asked curiously, her face showing obvious doubt.   
  
"Yes, in fact let me take a picture of all you," I said taking the camera from Holmes and motioning for them all to scoot together. Click.   
  
"Odd contraption," Watson said, scratching his head and franticly blinking his eyes at the cameras quick flash. "You can get those images on paper, Holmes?"   
  
"I can try through the Woodbury type of photomechanical process."   
  
"Explain Holmes," Watson said, tilting his head curiously, ready for a lengthy explanation.   
  
"Well, the Woodbury type is a method in which the process creates stunning pictures, but is an extremely difficult process. A light-sensitive gelatin material is exposed to a negative, resulting in a three-dimensional relief- map of the image. Then the hard part is applying huge pressure (with a hydraulic press most likely) on the gelatin relief to make an impression in a block of lead. The lead mold is used to create the prints, which have exquisite tonality and a slightly raised surface...." Holmes started to go on and on. Mary had started staring at the dwindling fire and had a glaze over her eyes, while Watson had been faintly nodding to Holmes his mind vividly trying to comprehend what the detective was saying.   
  
"Sounds unique," Watson had suggested brightly. "What do you think Mary?" he asked his day-dreaming wife.   
  
"What? Oh...I think it's a little above my intellect," Mary said politely. 'The total 19th century thing, men are smarter then women,' I thought in my head, narrowing my eyes at Mary.   
  
"But why are you here?" Holmes asked me quietly.   
  
"And how?" Watson butted in.   
  
"I don't know," I just about screamed, rolling my eyes. My irritation level was nearing its boiling point and I'm sure you can tell that I have a hot temper. "All I know is that I don't belong here and I don't have a place to stay."   
  
Watson looked at me peculiarly and then whispered something to Holmes. "Mary could you go down with Audrey to get our dinner from Mrs. Hudson?" he asked, Watson making a strange look at his fiancé.   
  
"Yes," Mary replied. "Come on dear," she said smiling brightly. I nodded while glancing at Holmes and Watson. They seemed to have an unspoken symbol or way of communicating because I could see something was up. Mary started trotting down the stairs but I stayed behind listening to the door, careful not to let my shadow be seen.   
  
"One of the most dangerous classes in the world is the drifting and friendless woman*(actually from the books, I'm quoting Doyle)," Holmes stated abruptly and paused, "but Audrey seems different. She's neither drifting nor friendless now."   
  
"You're not making sense and she hasn't explained where she was when she suddenly changed time dimensions," Watson said.   
  
"I have a suspicion," Holmes murmured, slouching in his chair staring into the fire. "This afternoon, I was...thinking, and I noticed someone slinking out of the room. I nonetheless thought it to be an hallucination but now Audrey has proven otherwise."   
  
"How do you know her Holmes?" Watson inquired softly.   
  
"I don't, it's rather unexplainable," Holmes said stiffly.   
  
"I don't know if I believe her story," Watson said itching his chin.   
  
"For some reason beyond this planet...I think I do," Holmes said calmly.   
  
"She seems honest, but since when did we start believing in fairy tales other than reasonable explanations?" Watson said firmly.   
  
"When I saw truth in her eyes," Holmes whispered.   
  
"Was that POETRY?" Watson said incredulously, "Truly Holmes, what is it with you and this young crazy woman?"   
  
"She's not crazy she's lost," Holmes said strongly, "But I believe there is much more behind it then that."   
  
"Audrey!" a voice hissed behind me. "Come downstairs and help me," Mary whispered treading up the stairs and tugging on my arm.   
  
"Fine," I whispered following Mary but looking over my shoulder at Holmes's door, wondering if he even knew I was there.   
  
I was lead into a small kitchen with a snoring frizzy grey-haired woman in the corner. "That's Mrs. Hudson," Mary whispered quietly while handing me a tray with steaming stew on it. "Here take an extra," she said, winking.   
  
"Okay," I replied. Mary was extremely nice. She wasn't exactly the most exciting or fun person to be with, but she was pretty swell.   
  
"Shhh," she motioned, pressing her finger against her tightly closed mouth as we neared the landing. "Here's dinner," Mary announced opening the door and smiling brightly letting me hear snatches of conversation containing the words 'she' and 'stay here'.   
  
Holmes and Watson both exchanged glances as Mary dished out the food. "Audrey, we've reviewed you situation and Holmes and I think it'd be acceptable if you stay here at 221b Baker Street," Holmes announced abruptly.   
  
"What?!" I gasped, smiling at Holmes. "THANK YOU!" Even if this was a dream, it was a pretty good one.   
  
"There has to be some reason that you've been transported here," Watson said briefly, "and you seem to be a decent young woman."   
  
"Where were you when you suddenly arrived here?" Holmes asked me, stirring his boiling soup.   
  
"Right here," I replied, standing up and walking to the spot by the two obsidian elephants that I was examining during my time period change.   
  
"And before you noticed you were here, where were you?" Watson said.   
  
"Umm...in the Sherlock Holmes Museum," I said weakly, trying not to look at the three's stupefied faces.   
  
"What?" Mary laughed.   
  
"Well there are stories written about you guys," I said giggling at their reaction.   
  
"About US?" Watson asked.   
  
"Yep, a whole boatload of them by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle," I replied helping myself to a bowl of, now cool, soup.   
  
"He sounds familiar," Watson said, "Know him Holmes?"   
  
"No, the name doesn't hesitate to ring a bell."   
  
"But the stories," Mary insisted, "Are they in the future? Do you know what will happen after this night and for the next years?"   
  
"I knew nothing of me in your world but I may remember certain mysteries." I replied casually. Watson and Holmes jumped at the idea.   
  
"Can you tell us the outcome of our next cases then?" Watson practically yelled.   
  
"I won't," I replied smiling, "no sense in spoiling it."   
  
Mary then stood up. "Watson it's time I should leave," she said, nodding for Watson to come to the front door with her.   
  
"Bye Mary," I said quietly waving good-bye to my only Victorian female friend.   
  
"Bye Audrey," Mary replied, smiling cordially.   
  
Holmes and I were quiet in discomfort able silence when the two engaged couple left to say their goodbye. "Why?" Holmes said staring into space, "Why did you do that?"   
  
"Excuse me?" I asked, slightly smiling at the detective's analogical question.   
  
"Today when you were sneaking past my residence and I...startled you, why did you...respond the way you did," he said a little uncomfortable.   
  
"I don't know," I laughed, "I just felt like doing it."   
  
"Oh," Holmes replied, frowning slightly in disappointment.   
  
"But..." I paused, thinking, "I wanted to." Holmes smiled.   
  
"I barely even know you," he whispered, "But you've totally changed my life."   
  
'I've heard that line before,' I thought crossly in my mind. "I shouldn't have done that," I said softly.   
  
"Why?" he demanded then smiled looking bashful.   
  
"I'm distracting you from your complicated work," I said teasing him.   
  
"No, you aren't and you won't," he said forcefully.   
  
"Okedokee," I said, trying to hide an escapable yawn.   
  
"We should get you to bed," Holmes said grabbing a hand knit woolen blanket and handing it to me. "You can sleep in my room; I'll sleep in the chair."   
  
"Awwww Holmes," I whined, "you don't have to do that, I can sleep in the chair."   
  
"No I insist," he said gently pushing me to the door of his bedroom. At the doorway I turned around and faced him looking into his eyes. "Thank you Holmes," I whispered standing on my tippy-toes to reach his dark grey eyes.   
  
"You're welcome," he murmured leaning down to my face. He was going to kiss me, I knew it, a feeling rippled along my spine and I closed my eyes. But instead of a peck I felt a head nestled in my shoulder and arms around my waist. 'Damn,' I thought in my head. A hug?!   
  
Well, it wasn't THAT bad. I mean a passionate hug from Holmes was a heaven sent miracle. When had he EVER even showed ANY sign of emotion to anyone? Much the less a strange like me he had just met. For moments we stood there. "Thank god for you," I heard him whisper and it raise many questions in my head. I mean sure I had just MET Holmes and already it felt like something...deep.   
  
"Holmes?" I heard Watson say behind him.   
  
"G'night," I whispered as I quickly shut the door. Whew, so much drama. I was in a different time period with lots to be explored and an extremely HOT guy in the room next to me. What else could have been better? But then the realization of singularity hit me. Of course being in a different time period made me practically stranded in a world of proper, polite, English zombies. And Holmes would probably wake up tomorrow morning and realize what a fool he and I were and extinguish all emotional feelings he had for me. Not that there were any...Then came the remembrance of my small family, probably assuming I'm dead, or raped or kidnapped...Slowly tears began to cloud my eyes, making the room around me swirl into circular shapes. What on earth would happen now?   
  
Author's Note:   
  
Hehe, that was a LONG chapter, took like a week to write, although for short periods of time. Well as always please REVIEW and tell me your feelings, thoughts or opinions. I hopefully will update soon, but this weekend I'm going up North to my momma's family for Easter. Thanks again, you guys are AWESOME!!   
  
Kels* 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:   
  
Thanks to all my reviewers!! I appreciate your reviews sooooo much!!   
  
Heaps of candy to Katrina4, Beverly, Sigerson, Carolinus Took, Ptashas Leri, dixielou, nath, Queen of Spain, Hil, Mianne (UPDATE PLEASE!), Scarlett, !! Thanks guys!!   
  
Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I've been an evil writer and haven't been updating that much! Thanks to Mianne I got off my lazy bum and started to finish this chapter. By the way I HIGHLY recommend reading Mianne's story "Lady of Sherwood: Robin Hood and Marian"!! It seriously is AWESOME!   
  
Well, here comes the fic and enjoy!!   
  
Have you ever experienced the feeling of waking up somewhere and totally forgetting where you are? Well, that was exactly how I felt when I woke up the next morning. First my eyes opened to see a strange, loomy, grey ceiling and then darted around to see shelves of books and other simple accessories that looked like antiques. Then it hit me. The truth of what happened yesterday slammed into my brain, the scenes all coming back.   
  
I was still in my tourist clothes and I could hear my stomach growling. Almost afraid to confront Watson or Holmes in the next room, I peaked through the old-fashioned key hole. Watson was sitting in the large armchair reading a newspaper and Holmes was no where to be seen.   
  
I opened the door, making it creak loudly and Watson jumped when he saw me. "Good heavens Audrey," he chuckled, "It's almost noon." Hmmm, kind of odd, I thought in my head. Doesn't he even doubt my existence and what happened last night?   
  
"Sorry," I murmured sleepily. "Time travel is quite exhausting." He chuckled at my corny joke.   
  
"Mrs. Hudson has breakfast downstairs for you," he said, resuming reading his weekly bulletin.   
  
"Okay," I yawned again, stretching my arms, opening the door and trotting down the stairs. "Excuse me," I announced, tapping on the door frame as I reached the kitchen, "Mrs. Hudson?"   
  
"Alright, alright," a voice yelled, coming from an open door leading down into a cellar. "Coming."   
  
"Hello, I'm Audrey; can I help you out there?" I asked her as she came up the cellar steps carrying large boxes in her hands.   
  
"No, no," I'm fine," she said annoyed, nudging me aside and setting the items on the table. "Here's your breakfast," she said pointing to a plate of cold eggs and ham."   
  
"Thank you," I said politely and began to eat. Mrs. Hudson sat down opposite and watched me for a few minutes.   
  
"I don't believe your tale," she said abruptly, "I don't think what your saying is true, and honestly I think Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes are making a mistake by letting you stay here."   
  
"I'm sorry, reall-" I started, but she cut me off with a stern look.   
  
"Now, if you can prove to me that you're a decent woman with good morals then I approve of letting you stay under my roof. But Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes are MY tenants and you wouldn't want them kicked out because of you, would you?"   
  
"No, of course not-"   
  
"I'm a god-fearing woman and there are certain rules that you will have to follow when you stay here."   
  
"Okay, I-"   
  
"First, every Sunday morning you will go to church at St. Paul's cathedral with me. Second, you will be inside before nine o'clock and thirdly you will not wear those improper clothes you are wearing."   
  
"Of course not," I laughed, "I wouldn't dream of it."   
  
"Maybe Mrs. Watson has some clothes that you could wear, I have a few but I'm not sure if they would fit you," she said, looking me up and down with a critical eye.   
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," I started to say but she nodded her head and waved her hands impatiently.   
  
"You need a place to stay and I won't be letting you stay in with two men, one engaged and the other a bachelor. There is an empty room on the top floor that you could use, but you will need to find a job to pay for it."   
  
"Yes!! Could I possibly use that room?" I pounced. Ever since I had entered that room, it sort of seemed special to me. Like a place that I could depend on. The only problem I had now was finding a job. And considering my education, High School and a few classes in art, I wasn't qualified for much.   
  
"Mrs. Hudson, do you think you could help me get a job?" I asked, leaning on the door frame as she started to scrub some dishes.   
  
"I'll try if you give me some time," she retorted angrily as a dish clattered to the floor and she weakly tried to bend down and get it. "These knees," she hissed softly, her face beet red from bending over.   
  
I had a sense that it was an opportunity for some 'bonding' time, as me and my mother used to call it. So I pulled out a chair for her to sit and took over the dish cleaning duty. From the brief minutes I had encountered Mrs. Hudson, she seemed like a more 'pmsy' version of my Great-aunt Mabel. But I have the insane theory that two women can become friends, no matter their differences. Despite the time they live in, age and past.   
  
"Let me help," I said, starting to scrub the dishware.   
  
"Thank you," she said softly. "Now tell me about yourself."   
  
So during the next three hours I was with Mrs. Hudson, I gradually began to know the woman. I learned about her husband who died, and her barren state of living without children. I began to see through her eyes what life was like in the 1880's as a widow. And oddly enough, I began to see the start of a friendship beginning.   
  
Author's Note:   
  
Sorry, short chapter I know. I don't know about the truth of how Mrs. Hudson's husband died, or if she was truly barren. It just is that way in my story. I will really start to move into the plot in the next chapter. This didn't have much importance and stuff but maybe some fluff will come next. Wink, wink. Gracias to Hil for beta(ing) this for me! Well please review! Thanks oh so MUCH!   
  
Kelsey   
  
P.S. Just for fun and I'm actually watching the movie rite now, what's movie is this quote from?   
  
"Those men that bled the ground red at Falkirk, they fought for William Wallace and he fights for something I've never had, but I took it from him and I saw it in his face on the battlefield......I want to believe like he does."   
  
LOVE THAT MOVIE!   
  
(Beta Note: OH! I KNOW, I KNOW! :D I won't tell though. Cause I'm a good little beta. Oh yea, ANGUS IS HOT!) 


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